The echo of those kindly words seemed still to ring in her ears. Then Anna spoke more seriously than usual. Why is the door fastened? Open it directly!" "Are you alone?" asked Jack, mimicking the voice of Kneebone. Her features were meagre, and ghastly white, and had the fixed and horrible stamp of insanity. He grew even harder. He pressed his lips to her with a much greater force than she had anticipated. When the word “FREAK” appeared scratched in the persimmon colored paint on her locker, she knew that in some fragile young woman’s mind a war had escalated from imaginary to physical.
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